I feel awkward over this largely because I would not wish to be seen as an apologist for Hirst any more than I would for Jack Vettriano.

Consequently;

I’m sure Thomson approves of this because it involves paint….This is a better argument than I have ever read by Thomson in so far as it makes clear that you either accept Duchamp’s position or you don’t. The bit about Childish and Emin is just odd though.

Above all I find Thomson irritating because he seems to be a good deal better at being disagreeable than he is at being an artist. The argument here is one of weak witted equivalence and polemic. Adopting such a position completely, would eliminate an awful lot of art and somehow magically protect the business of painting. Painting dare I say it, stuck in a time before impressionism when I suspect there was little distinction between artists and favoured craftsmen. I am honest about my struggles to grasp the difference between Art and Craft as well as the difference between homage, inspiration and plagiarism. I don’t make a career or cause of it though.

I recommend going to Gordon Harris, buying a not too cheap canvas, M grade are good, selecting a size that meets your approval, buy a single brush that you like the feel of, and a student basic acrylic paint colour set that includes white. All up probably round 100.00.Prop the canvas up on a table or bench, have some water nearby and go at it.Really, I mean it, answers will appear...then more questions ;-)

(There is this weird & precious idea that every scrap & scribble of an artist (writer/whatever) is valuable. Aint so. I regularly burn stuff, drawn/written, because it's of no moment to anyone but me - and the moment has gone-

the exception is my diaries: that is because they have a lot of really good recipes in them-)

We didnt have truly portable cameras (for kids, I mean) but I was truly fascinatedby a bloke at the boulder beach, Moeraki, early 1950s,who v. swiftly drew silhouettes of theboulders he saw. You looked from sand to boulders to sea- and the sea was coming in-since then, I've written stuff in sand, built little 'temporary alters/altars for the wind/songs to swing round', made grief fires on the low tidal sand & cried & chanted my grief out - all for the sea to take away, and the sand never to remember-

I rather wondered if Reuben might have been the same person who offered a kiwi for sale on TradeMe a few years back. When he offered to recapture the fly he'd smuggled into Hirst's show I was reminded of how when people asked about the kiwi's present whereabouts they were told that it was loose in the backyard that bordered the suburban Wellington bush, but not to worry because it was "easy to catch".